


Sons of War

by suyari



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Dog Cafe, Fae & Fairies, Feeding, Incest, M/M, Mates, Pack Dynamics, Shifters, Sibling Incest, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-23 23:13:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13200606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suyari/pseuds/suyari
Summary: It was a pretty safe bet to assume that a werewolf pack would have better things to do than run a bookstore-cum-dog cafe.**Pacific Rim Secret Santa 2017**





	Sons of War

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SublimeDiscordance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SublimeDiscordance/gifts).



> So, it should surprise absolutely no one that I went ahead and mashed the hell out of the prompts. Because WHY STOP AT ONE?! That being said, I do have to apologize, because I did not have sufficient time to devote to this work. As such, while it more than meets the basic requirements, it is by no means a finished piece. I promise, as soon as I'm able to focus on this properly, I'll be fleshing this out more fully and you'll get your full gift as it was meant to be.
> 
> As always, a hearty thank you to my betas for putting up with me.

It was a pretty safe bet to assume that a werewolf pack would have better things to do than run a bookstore-cum-dog cafe. Prior to the Kaiju War it might have even been the least likely option. If nothing else, the Kaiju War had taken everything people _thought_ they knew about the world and thrown it out the proverbial window, forcing the universe to open a door. It wasn’t as if the Supernatural world hadn’t existed for centuries alongside the human world. Or even that neither had had any sort of knowledge or interaction over the millennia. However, humans had a spectacular talent for willful ignorance and the Supernaturals...well, they just had a preference for living. Humanity had a tendency to eradicate that which did not conform to its structured ideals, and for better or worse, the Supernaturals had been dragged along in Humanity’s wake since the first hominid struck two rocks together and called it success. 

Prior to the war, Chuck’s pack had lived in Australia. They’d been there since the first landing, stranding them on a continent the Imperials had believed would finally do them in properly. Unfortunately for the crown, Australia had been a gift to many of the Supernaturals transported there. The others who’d lived there since the time before had at first not known what to do with them, but in time, they grew to respect each other, and even to look out for each other, taking care of their own as an overall community when humanity came too close. 

The rise of the elder beasts had done what ten thousand years could not: Force the two worlds to work together, so that they may all survive. They’d successfully put down the kaiju, but at the cost of the world order. Humanity’s numbers had taken a turn; for the first time in a long time, putting them back into a more balanced existence with the Supernatural community. And after everything the Supernaturals had done and sacrificed, there would be no going back for anyone. Committees were formed. Species forced to register themselves. There would be no more living in shadows, but, it also meant there would never again be a time where an individual didn’t have to walk into a room and try and assess just how many kinds of sentient beings were present within. A body was either human or it wasn’t, and anything that wasn’t could be anything at all - which was an understandably concerning prospect. Luckily they had eons of world cohabitation and recent heroism and sacrifice on their side. That and the fact that humanity really didn’t know much more than what had become common lore meant that for the Supernaturals, life could in many ways be _better_. They carried around their species as a byline on their driver’s license and their taxes were different, but otherwise, they were as they always had been - just another face in the crowd. 

Other than upturning the world order in every way imaginable, the echo that was the wake of the Kaiju War had restructured society and the world economy in such a way that nearly half the planet found itself displaced and forced to re-evaluate. New communities sprung up in the scars of Kaiju battles, an odd mix of Supernaturals and Humans. Dotting the coasts of most nations, they provided a fully immersive experience that could be found nowhere else in the world. Almost immediately these safe harbors composed nearly exclusively of Kaiju War survivors became thriving central hubs. Both sides were quick to find the financial benefit the growing cities provided and make the most of them. 

While a good portion of Chuck’s paternal pack had survived the war, those whom had fought in it had settled under his father as a new branch in - of all places - Alaska. If Chuck had had to choose a new home for his pack, Alaska would not have made it into the Top Ten. He understood, of course, the reasoning behind the territory shift; he even agreed with them - which was something he’d be taking to his _grave_. That did not, of course, mean he was happy about any of it. 

To start with, Alaska was vast and sprawling and there were miles and miles of nothing but wilderness with seemingly random deposits of humans and supernaturals all throughout. They’d managed for a long time to cohabitate by not interacting at all and the fallout from the war left both sides bitter about it. As transplants, Chuck’s pack became a natural mediator for the opposing sides. Having more experience with both blending in and adhering to human social mores, or at the very least, appearing to. Humans could become finicky about the oddest things. As such, while nearly everyone in town understood the term “mate” to be equivalent to “spouse” and were able to recognize those who identified as mates and properly pair them up both on sight and by name, practically none were aware that Herc and Scott Hansen - the Alpha pair of the newly formed Kodiak pack - were also brothers. “Incest” being something humans with their naturally short lives and limited mental and emotional capacity simply wouldn’t tolerate - thousands of years of it being completely acceptable for various reasons entirely aside. Each generation of humanity progressed as quickly as it could, in order to launch the next generation even further. It made sense for them to build genetically varied family units, all the better to progress in all the ways they in their humanity, fell short. Genetic diversity was an evolutionary shortcut for humanity. A way for them to keep up with the supernaturals they’d lived alongside since long before civilization began. 

For supernaturals, however, with their extended lifespans and access to more senses, life pairing made for a more complicated set of variables. That wasn’t to say they weren’t genetically diverse in their own ways - some more than others. Most supernaturals had multiple means of procreation at their disposal, which meant a varied genetic output for their progeny. They also, as a whole, propagated less frequently. Young took up so much time and energy, most supernatural families had a handful of offspring, many at times, over a century apart in age. In the time it took to raise a standard supernatural child, a single, fertile human alternately gendered pairing could produce four or five generations. It was how the Humans had gone from a worship and respectful sentiment to a culling of the “unnatural” all in one supernatural generation. Which had been confusing at first for everyone. 

Although still considered young for his kind, Chuck was considered an adult to the Humans, which was good enough for him. It meant he was able to enjoy most of the aspects of human society that would be otherwise barred to his Human peers. Though maturity in one’s species was the generally accepted basis of determining one's age, among supernaturals, with their varied abilities and lifespans, age was determined less by years acquired, and more by experience and the development of one’s gifts. Chuck had always been rather naturally gifted, and among Supernaturals as a whole was accepted as a mature individual, capable of making his own choices and dealing with the consequences thereof. Werewolves, however, were not considered adults until they’d taken the bond. Which meant, they could exist for centuries within a very specific loophole that made the greater pack responsible for their actions. A loophole which had been used both for good and for ill over the millennia. Chuck prided himself on so far not having to make use of it. Something he personally found a detriment to his overall societal standing. 

As retired - because there was no more war to fight - Rangers, Chuck and his parents could have easily lived off their military service stipends. However, being such long lived creatures, it was more feasible to accept a lump sum payout - the better to avoid increasingly invasive questions like just how long they would live, what their pair bonding was like, how many children may be expected in the future...Werewolves as a whole preferred to play their strengths close to the chest as it were. They were happy to be out and proud, but extra careful to keep any new information from finding its way into circulation. The less humanity knew about them, the safer it was for everyone. Even if it could be an epic pain in the ass trying to remember what Humanity knew and what they didn’t and where in the grey area they existed in, certain actions or responses may fall. 

For instance, as far as the world was concerned, Chuck was an only child. Which any Supernatural knew to be completely unfounded, contumelious assumption. Chuck was in fact, one of two children; his younger brother Max too vulnerable to trust Humans with the knowledge of. Pups had a tendency to keep to the more stable of their two forms. It was safer all around for them to be easily overlooked and just as quickly forgotten. And while sexually mature werewolves did indeed take the form of wolves, radiant and resplendent though they may be, they had evolved as a species in such a way as to completely disguise themselves prior to, taking the forms of far more socially and historically accepted canids: that of man’s best friend. The appearance of a Pup’s form only changed within a Human’s sight, aging at appropriate timely transitions, which made sense to the Human’s limited perception of the world. And when their age peaked, they were - depending on the Human - either a completely new breed or a puppy again. Maintaining their status in the family, without bringing focus upon themselves. 

Half the time, they weren’t even aware of what breed Humans perceived them as. While the form remained unwavering, Humanity could fluctuate wildly, and part of being a werewolf was knowing everything there was to know about nearly every kind of canid there was. It was less jarring if the family could smoothly transition with the Human perception. And they’d long hidden themselves in society by surrounding themselves with knowledge and real animals. While it could not be said that _all_ canids would fit comfortably within a pack mentality, dogs by nature had been mostly pre-programmed by humans to do just that. Werewolves had long ago bound their fates to dogs as well, and could not bear to hear of or come across a dog in need, without moving immediately to their aid. As such, nearly half the overall pack when in four legged form, were not in fact Supernatural in any way - though the bonds Werewolves created could provide extended lives for the dogs who had become Pack. 

Humans could not understand the bonds Werewolves shared with dogs and found it amusing that they would surround themselves with other canids. Many mistakenly believing that they did such because their numbers were lower than they would like the world to believe. If anything, their numbers were _higher_ than they cared to let on, so they let the humans think what they liked, and were more than happy to continue the ruse by adopting every stray in their territory, and sometimes, beyond it. Even if it was less of a social distraction and more of an inherent compulsion. Sometimes shifters got scooped up along the way, and were welcomed into the pack with magnanimity. Shifters being the result of a Were and Human reproducing, the activation of the genes that allowed for shifting meant that often the gift would not manifest until several generations later, usually under extremely stressful situations. Which meant most, if not all, shifters were completely unaware and taken entirely by surprise by the sudden manifestation. This much had unfortunately become common knowledge in the most spectacular way imaginable. When on February 29, 2020 Knifehead tore through the conn-pod of Gipsy Danger, seeming to kill Yancy Becket. 

Shifters as a species tended to be incredibly difficult to pin down, especially prior to manifestation. Yancy’s death and subsequent reappearance took even Supernaturals by surprise. Besides having absolutely no knowledge of what they were, the Beckets were equally unprepared for how their relationship would change. With Yancy a shifter and Raleigh human, they were incompatible. Finding themselves adrift from one another, and unable to reconnect properly, the sudden separation caused both immeasurable pain and suffering. Until five years later in 2025, when Raleigh was sucked into an elder dimension and subsequently killed. While both brothers managed to survive their otherwise unavoidable deaths thanks to a genetic quirk tucked deep into their DNA, they did in fact, die in every sense of the word. Their Humanity lost forever, and the reality they once knew ripped away. Things were further complicated by the fact that the Beckets weren’t _just_ shifters. What they were had been long ago lost to another war in another age. But the fact remained that while their shifter blood was carried down their father’s line from some Great-Grandparent, their mother was wholly fae. A fact she had concealed from their father; not that Chuck thought a Human would know what to do with the information anyway. Her kind loved deeply, instantly and forever. A damning thing to any Supernatural who fell for a Human. 

She had known of course, but had not been able to prepare her children for what was to come, before her own time passed over their family like a dark shadow. Leaving Yancy and Raleigh young and inexperienced with the gifts they were not yet of age to receive. Their younger sister Jazmine had been spared so far, remaining human, despite the war which had raged around her for years. Though, if what they were was any indication, Jazmine was just extremely young and would not likely show any talent for another hundred years or so unless she too experienced a sudden unexpected trauma. Or died - a situation her brothers worked tirelessly to prevent.

With the war over, the Pack had needed settling and the Beckets had needed guidance and so the Hansens had stayed. They’d used their money to buy land and homes and establish a business so as to maintain a less threatening presence. Which meant for better or for worse, Chuck spent his days looking out for his brother, helping the Beckets figure out how to control their gifts, keeping an eye out for trouble, and serving coffee and cake to scads of tourists who came to see the Rangers or the Werewolves, or the Beckets - both of whom had cheated death and gained immortality all at the same time - or any number of things, and locals, regulars who knew and respected them and just enjoyed the food, company and security of being at the center of a Pack’s territory. 

Seven years of training gave Yancy an advantage over Raleigh, who was the one Chuck most often had to save. Yancy, however, was the one more likely to get into a fight Chuck would then have to break up. Even before their lives had been complicated by being Supernatural, the Becket brothers had had a freakishly strong connection, the likes of which surprised everyone they met. They were bonded in a way that only made sense in retrospect. Some wayward part of themselves waking in the loss of their family and the world they knew and understood and their place in it. Forging a new path for themselves. Protecting one another above all others. Caring for each other, depending upon one another, seeing one another for who they truly were through the drift. A bond which had suffered for _years_ as they’d tried to reconcile Yancy’s newly altered status with Raleigh’s unchanged one, and what it would truly mean for them in the long run. Thankfully for everyone, Raleigh had followed in Yancy’s footsteps. Chuck couldn’t be certain Yancy would have even made his first century if Raleigh had remained human. He may have found a mate, but the bond the brothers shared would have meant that when Raleigh died and did not reanimate as something altogether new and improved, Yancy’s heart would have torn in two and mate or no, the strain of Raleigh’s death would have eventually killed him, slowly, painfully and irrevocably. 

Thinking along those lines always gave Chuck the shivers. 

His Dad had taken first Yancy and then Raleigh into their family, making them Pack and binding them to the greater strength and security that was a supportive pack. Yancy had struggled for a long time, never truly settling until Raleigh was a member as well. Raleigh, in typical fashion, charmed the hell out of everyone and became a fast favorite. What Chuck hadn’t been expecting however of the strong, steadfast and dutiful Ranger who had sacrificed his life, his bond and his family in order to save the world, was the fact that Raleigh, when removed of worry, stress and responsibility was a fucking pain in the ass. 

Unlike Yancy, who had needed about two years to adjust to his change in status, Raleigh had more or less taken his own in stride. Chuck couldn’t be sure whether the difference in transitional periods had to do with the brothers inherent personalities or because of the way in which they occurred - Yancy, having more to lose than Raleigh at the time. Either way, while Yancy had needed to be gently coaxed to lean into his new status and tinker with his abilities, Raleigh had gone all in from day one. A life stance he seemed to have where everything was concerned. 

It was Raleigh, in fact, who had uncovered many of their abilities. Yancy, moving through each new gift virtually systematically and with particular focus, had naturally suppressed any budding gifts while cultivating each one to its fullest potential. Raleigh ran all systems concurrently and with purpose and a steady amount of will behind it, which meant at times he was absolute chaos in a six foot, one inch shiny blond package. The strength of their gifts seemed to be a unique combination of application, familiarity and focus. Of which Yancy tended to get particularly retentive about; which could be greatly hindering. Whereas Raleigh - who was less concerned about the individual aspects of his abilities - was much more prone to a sort of relaxed, haphazard spontaneity, combining his abilities as if without much conscious thought or direction; which often resulted in extreme cases at either end of the spectrum for their kind. Although, when emotions came into play, it was as if the brothers swapped souls. Raleigh became very cold and calculated when his own was threatened; sinking into the true nature of his mother’s kin. Yancy tended to flare hotly - as most shifters did - and was more likely to start a particularly vicious fight. Chuck didn’t know much of the nature of shifter bonds, but if he had to guess, based solely on how the Becket brothers conducted their day to day, they were nearly more intense than those of werewolves. Though, he supposed in some ways it made sense. Werewolves always had the pack to grow and learn. Shifters - if not found and fostered - had a tendency to fall through the cracks, leading to unfathomably strong individual bonds that routinely governed their lives and could be the foundation for both stability and instability, the latter being almost entirely responsible for centuries of werewolf myth. 

The brothers also differed vastly where Pack was concerned. Werewolves on a whole, were an extremely tactile species. They reaffirmed their bonds to one another with regular daily contact. Part of the strength of being in a pack was the fact that the mood of one affected the mood of all. So when someone was unhappy or upset, there was always a plethora of willing, available individuals prepared to do whatever it took to help them restabilize. Sometimes it was as simple as having someone to talk to. Sometimes all it took was a good, long snuggle. Sometimes there was crying or yelling, which still ended in being held. And at the further reaches, there was the physical release of tension which came in many forms but could be neatly broken down into two main categories: Fight or Fuck. It was something that made sense to werewolves, shifters and other Supernaturals whose core could only be centered in a strong communal environment. Humans however, tended to get uneasy about many of the ways in which communally based Supernaturals conducted themselves. So, it was pretty standard procedure to keep such interactions as far from public view as possible. As such, Humans tended to think of them as eternally aloof, which suited about all of them just fine. 

Where Yancy took after his mother’s kin more in daily interaction with the Pack - keeping a tight, inner circle whom had open invitation to caress and make overtures towards him, and maintaining a more distanced approach with everyone else - Raleigh was so deeply ensconced in Pack social interaction, Chuck often _forgot_ he wasn’t a full blooded werewolf when witnessing him around the others. Yancy projected the characteristic werewolf aloofness with such distinct clarity that it amused Chuck to watch humans come into The Den and stare at him. They’d blush and avoid eye contact and fawn over him and scent the air with lust, but they were respectful, keeping just beyond the professional bubble Yancy kept up. Raleigh on the other hand, was just as charming and audacious with the humans as the Supernaturals. He’d joke and tease and flirt without much thought, which in Chuck’s opinion was all fine and good with Supernaturals who understood what it meant, or would have to face the pack over a misgiving. But, with humans, it just invited trouble. Which was made all the worse by the fact that the Beckets were still very young for their kind. Blatant miscommunications could often cause severe upset and pack instincts to rise to protect and defend. All of which took a backseat to Yancy’s outrage if _he_ noticed first. As a result, Raleigh tended to not be on the clock when a Hansen wasn’t capable of being physically present - Max not included - to allow for him to duck out as needed if anyone got too frisky. 

For reasons Chuck still hadn’t managed to properly suss out, _he_ was most often the Hansen upon whom the duty of protecting Becket virtue and overall interspecies sociopolitical health fell upon. Yancy was a dream. He mostly took care of himself and kept out of trouble. _Raleigh_ on the other hand…

“Oi!” Chuck called across the room. The Den - so coined because his parents had a twisted sense of humor and humans had a weakness for Supernatural _anything_ \- was pretty easy to navigate. The Alpha pair having purchased a large old workhouse and converting it. The main floor consisted of mostly open space, small tables and chairs grouped together, flanked by sprinklings of comfortable seating, couches and lounge chairs spread out across the room directly in line of the great bay windows that let in vast amounts of sunlight during the day and allowed for transparency at night. They were definitely out of place, but had come to be something of a territorial marker for the pack. 

There were bookshelves spread out across the room, tucked up against every available space. They didn’t sell books so much as they were a place to hang out and read, get some social interaction or come see the local werewolf pack in their element. But they did damn good business all things considered. They served food, because as Scott had put it: If the humans were going to come gawking anyway, they may as well kill two birds with one stone and put up a nice front while making some money out of it. Herc had agreed more on the premise that having food readily available to all would make people less likely to be jumpy and other Supernaturals - the pack included - less likely to feel penned in like a menagerie. They had plenty of tchotchkes spread around that Chuck was almost certain most humans were under the impression they’d purchased antiquing or recreated for aesthetic but were in reality memorabilia from the greater pack’s travels through the world, a unique story that told of the blending of lives and the passage of time. 

The pack itself was always in residence. They ranged from scheduled shifts to passing by during their day, to coming in to eat, because eating together was very important for pack health and stability. Anyone on duty were parsed into two groups: There for show or there for security. While most made the mistake of believing any shifted wolves **_were_** the security, it was the wolves in Human clothing as it were who were the real security. Blending in with the humans, whom locals knew to keep tight lipped about when it was their shift, and tourists flowed through often enough to not recognize as pack, they kept a steady but constant flow of traffic through the shop. They always kept out of direct line of sight to be less noticeable, but always in defensible positions that kept the shop patrons flanked at all times just in case. 

And scattered all about the place, doing as they liked - from greeting and keeping customers company to sleeping in every warm nook and cranny they could find - was the pack’s dogs. They were nearly as much of a draw as the pack itself. Every so often a group of tourists would be drawn in on the premise of a dog cafe alone and end up surprised to find themselves in a Supernatural establishment. Interspersed here and there were the pack’s pups, protected by dog and were alike and equally invisible to local and tourist. 

“Ray! Come here for a minute!” 

Raleigh smiled sweetly at the group he’d been taking down orders for and managed to shift smoothly out of the way of a wandering hand, turning on his heel to trot over to the center of the room where the hub of the store sat. A combination bar and register, it allowed anyone working inside to keep a weather eye on the entire shop, and was considered a center of power; which meant no one but pack could enter it without causing a ruckus and unfortunately, that at least one adult Hansen had to man at all hours to keep the Pack from feeling vulnerable. 

Raleigh leaned into the bar, ass tipping higher as he shifted onto his toes. “You beckoned?” he teased. 

Yancy reached over to swat him in the ass with a towel - saving Chuck from having to do something _himself_ and Raleigh shifted laughing. 

“When was the last time you ate?” 

Raleigh tilted his head thoughtfully. “I had a sandwich like an hour ago.” 

Chuck sighed and leaned into the bar so their bodies hindered anyone from taking a guess at what they were talking about by trying to read them. “When was the last time you _ate_?” Chuck asked again, voice low and head tilted so he could keep an eye on the table Raleigh had wandered over from over the half shifter’s shoulder. 

“Oh,” Raleigh replied quietly. “Um...three days?” 

Chuck rocked back and dropped his hands to the bartop. “Take a quick break. Catch a bite.”

Raleigh’s eyes shifted over to his brother, who shrugged, both hands up slightly. He sighed and untied his apron, dropping it over the counter. 

Chuck met eyes with one of the Pack on duty, then looked at Raleigh and beyond. The other acknowledged with a light dip in their eyes and got up. 

“What about you?” Chuck asked Yancy as Raleigh retreated out the back door. 

“Little longer,” he replied, wiping down a glass. 

Chuck raised an eyebrow. 

Yancy heaved a sigh. “Just under a week.” 

“Yancy,” Chuck scolded. 

“I’m fine,” he replied. 

“You’re pushing it,” Chuck responded. 

“I can handle it.”

“Like hell you can.” He leaned into the bar casually so as not to alert any Humans to the situation. “I know what happens when you get _hungry_ , Yancy. I’ve seen what happens when you get _hungry_. Take a quick break too.” 

“I’m _fine_ ,” Yancy stressed, avoiding his eyes. 

“You’re _stubborn_ is what you are. Take a break or I’ll tell Dad.” 

Yancy looked up sharply, meeting his eyes. Chuck held them, unwilling - and unable, given Pack politics - to back down. Eventually, Yancy did, sparing Chuck another scolding. 

“I don’t want to.”

“I don’t rightly care if you want to or not, mate. Fact is you _need_ to or else.”

Yancy heaved another sigh and scrubbed at his hair. 

Chuck made sure to look now that he knew it’d been a while. Small sparks, like tiny stars, burst to life in the space between Yancy’s skin and hair. They were too incremental for a human to notice, but the fact that Yancy was sparking at all was a bad sign. The Shifter half of the Beckets would bow to the Pack structure. The fae half would bow to no one. It was a delicate balancing act that kept the Beckets always just the right side of the equation to keep them (and everyone else) safe. 

Yancy responded, the sound more melliflous than structural, sending alarms off in Chuck’s head. 

“I’m sorry, what?” he responded, trying to break through the instinctual response to the sound, which was to press up against Yancy and rub his body all over him. 

“I _said_ ,” Yancy replied, picking up another glass and scrubbing it dry with more force than necessary. “I don’t _like_ it.” 

Chuck suppressed the urge to sigh again. “Yancy,” he replied, lowering his voice and tilting his body so the conversation remained between them. “I know that.” He reached for him slowly, settling his hand over Yancy’s with enough space to let the other retreat if he felt threatened. When his fingers closed around Yancy’s own, he held a private celebratory moment for himself. It was hard to reach Yancy when he was withdrawing, and having to fight him - especially in front of so many witnesses - would be unfortunate. “But you _have_ to. You know that. It’s not safe for anyone if you don’t.” 

Yancy kept stubbornly looking down. But he’d paused in his frustrated retreat at the very least. 

“Come on,” Chuck coaxed. “You can feed from _me_.” 

Yancy’s eyes swept up again. Chuck could see the struggle in them, but more than that was the hunger burning in Yancy’s eyes. He’d probably left it a lot longer than was wise. But, they’d fix that soon enough. 

“We’re taking a quick break,” he told the nearest Packmate, voice intentionally pitched to the room. “Have to take care of something out back. Maxie’s in charge.” 

Max gave a snort from across the room. Several people laughed, misunderstanding and finding amusement in the misunderstanding. Chuck honestly had no time for any of it. Hand closing about Yancy’s he yanked him out of the space and was grateful when he followed docily. 

The moment they were in an enclosed space though, Yancy’s breathing changed, making his chest rattle with the force of it. His heart was beating so hard Chuck could hear it pounding loudly, sending the entire space alight; he could feel it in the air between them. 

Chuck licked his lips. “Come on then,” he coaxed, leaning back into the wall and tilting his head up. “However you want.” 

Yancy just stood there, entire body taking up the rhythm until he was shaking with it. 

“You’re so damn stubborn,” Chuck sighed, arching up to work his shirt off. 

Yancy didn’t move. 

Chuck tilted his head, trying to catch the half shifter’s eyes. “Yancy...come on, it’s okay. You’ll have a quick kip and head back to work. It’ll be fine, I promise.” He reached for his hand again, humming softly. It was an old song, one mostly lost to time, something his parents had sung to him when he was young. Yancy wasn’t familiar with it, but given his nature, took the tune up soon enough. Chuck relaxed into the feeling, making sure he was as calm as he could be. They tried not to let the Beckets go properly unfed for long. But when they found themselves in the situation, they tried not to let them feed from anyone who couldn’t handle it. It was an experience unlike any other, but it also meant willingly letting go so that the predator inside them could be properly sated. Fighting back only caused complications, and when the Beckets returned to themselves, would upset one or both greatly, to the point that they would refuse to feed. Raleigh was generally more congenial about it. Yancy however, _hated_ that part of himself and actively tried to suppress it, which only backfired every time. 

He could feel his head starting to fog over, so he hummed a little louder and ran his hand through Yancy’s hair, drawing him close so he’d know before he gave in that the feeding was entirely consensual. 

It was hard to actively recall what happened during a feeding. But Chuck knew enough about it to know that what the Beckets fed on wasn’t something readily available in great swaths. They’d learned the hard way that they _could_ , if necessary, feed from anyone. But when they did, the hunger would only grow. They were incapable of getting what they needed from just anyone. And when they tried, the problem would only grow. One day in frustration, Chuck had offered himself. He’d fed them both at once in a desperate attempt to help his packmates and woke up three days later feeling the best he’d ever felt in his life. Neither brother would come see him for two whole days after he woke. Yancy had avoided eye contact with him for nearly a week. Raleigh recovering as soon as Chuck reached out for him the first time. 

Whatever it was that the Beckets needed, the only healthy food source they had available to them was the pack. When they fed from the pack, they could go for days without feeling the pull to charm customers. Yancy could go far longer without than Raleigh, but Chuck knew that to be entirely built on stubbornness. As their current situation could readily attest. 

He came to half an hour later, blood singing, to find Yancy tending bar and Raleigh snuggling Max a little giggly. They both seemed in good spirits, which was good enough for Chuck. He adjusted his shirt, smoothed back his hair, and sauntered out to keep an eye out until his shift ended.


End file.
